GENTLEMAN SCORE

10/39

Gah! When will we learn that being the perfect gent is not about lists, or tractors, or slippers, or when to recite poetry, or how to fight, or where to travel? I write that, of course, in the bitter knowledge that I have notched up a pitiful 10 of the 39 markers of perfect manliness outlined in the latest Country Life.

It’s almost worse for the not-quites. Run a marathon? Not quite. A half. Learn to foxtrot? Well,

I did one memorable summer in Athens momentarily master the tango with an amazing Argentine couple. Bid on a barrel of Burgundy? I’ve even covered the auction in Beaune for this very newspaper – just not put my own cash on the barrelhead. On foreign assignments I’ve been an observer of gentlemen, you see. Buy a one-way ticket to an exotic location? Does Pristina, the crumbly concrete capital of Kosovo, count as exotic?

Truly, I’m tempted to say that the accumulation of stuff, or skills, to satisfy some spurious spreadsheet, fashionable for a day, does not in any way maketh the man.

Self-serving though it sounds, there really is only one quality that makes a gent, and it’s free: curiosity.

Highly underrated at the moment, I would say, as we all pootle about, burnishing our own online brands, bewitched by the sound of our own voices, huddling with like minds, thinking always about surface, never substance.

Take an interest! That was the mantra I grew up with, one that prodded me into this line of work. Ask questions. Shut up. Listen to the answer. Learn.

It’s bloody hard to do. It has never come easily (for I am as vain and solipsistic as anyone). But it is the quality from which all else flows. What girl (or boy) will care if you know the foxtrot if you look into their eyes and ask them, with genuine interest, where they first fell in love with the Alabama Slide.

You know what that looks like because, at some point, you will have met the perfect gent. You will have felt the warm glow of his interest, and found not just him, but yourself, too, a better human being. It’s a miraculous quality. God knows I don’t have it. But I’m keen to learn.

Run a marathon? Not quite. A half. Learn to foxtrot? Well, the tango